


Decorde Totaliter, Et Ex Mente Tota

by nikuy



Series: Amicus Animae [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Sentinel/Guide, Slow Build, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikuy/pseuds/nikuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I will always be there for you. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Me and my all.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Decorde Totaliter, Et Ex Mente Tota

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhapsodyoftales](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rhapsodyoftales).



> First of all: I suck at doing summary.
> 
> Also, not only this is my very first SnK this is my first time writing Sentinel/Guide dynamics. There are some specific situations applied in this fic regarding to the Sentinel/Guide military system, age limit to apply to military academy, for example, which is pushed to 11 in this universe. More explanations will come clear in the following chapters. 
> 
> Shoutout to my beloved muse rhapsodyoftales (psst she's on Tumblr)! I sincerely have no confidence in posting this without her approval. Let us proceed to ~~hurt~~ love our favorite characters more!
> 
> I'd really like to know what you're thinking, about this or anything (I'd be happy to talk with you guys really), so feel free to drop comments here or on my Tumblr: nikubear.

**Wall** **Rose, Year 850**

 

The rise of humanity had been Military Police’s favorite topic for the past five years, and still was even after they sent out half of the survivors to fight beyond the wall four years earlier. _Survivors_ , those drunkards would snigger with an unsympathetic, smug look on their faces. It was not how they call the number of human beings, _their own kind_ , who managed to escape the death that loomed right above their roof and under their bed five years ago. Four years ago he would have came over them for a fight, seeing one of them with a bruise on their faces caused by him worth the pain he should deal with as a child when they came over him to land punches on his. It was worth it, but not now. Not when he is freshly graduated and free to choose which side he would fight for, _what_ he would fight for. It would be too much of a waste; even he could suppress his anger at times like this with a clear, single goal right before his eyes.

 

For the last five years, it had been an acute crisis for humanity—or, more precisely, the lack of it. It was not an unusual sight for survivors to wander aimlessly on the road, sleeping by the pavement or vacant benches, suffering in starvation whilst dealing with the severe terror they experienced. Even the military enforcement was in a great need of batches of fresh soldiers to protect the remains of humanity that they lowered the age restriction drastically in the last five years. The decision was frowned upon by the society, new beliefs and provocateurs made their way to mingle with people amidst this chaos only to cause more. People were asking how “inhumane” it was to ask the children to fight for humanity at such an early age, not to mention that their power might not be awakened yet. For him it sounds more like the people were afraid that these young recruits would cause them more trouble and would not be able to protect them at all, he had been listening to enough bullshit through the years to recognize its variations. He was not a genius, but definitely not an idiot either.

 

Before the attack, it was impossible to enlist to the military school before puberty, when the true self would be awakened; the true ability human could choose to lean upon or not. The true self that calls for the basic instinct of a human to fulfill their basic needs, the need to _survive_ and to _protect_. Ages ago, the kings and the scientists had long carved the mystery of human beings upon their walls, their relics, and often forgotten books. Tales were told, technology advanced, back then people would call it fate, but today they are more familiar with the name of Sentinel and Guide. They are the personality, they are the true self, and they are _to survive_ and _to protect_. They are something within humans; a part of something that makes humans _humans_. According to the adults, it is something that awakens one’s senses; something that makes the grass green and the sky blue. According to the greatest soldiers, it is a true calling; the call to give all one could give to gain back what is taken, to keep on living and to preserve what should be preserved. However, according to lovers, _it becomes your air once you’re awakened; it runs in your blood once your eyes are open_.

 

Eren believed he would be useful for humanity. He was ranked the 10th best in the trainee squad, his physical endurance and strength are above the average, he would be able exterminate the nightmare of every single person he knows.He would demolish his nightmare no matter what it would cost him. He would use whatever the power he possessed to set things back on track, to right the wrong, _to avenge the Titans for what they’ve taken from him_.He was sick of being weak. He hated his inability to save his parents from what was coming for them. He hates that he was even more helpless than his own savior who broke down the second he saved him and his sister. He hated that not only he was helpless against those monsters; he was unable to fight the corruption that is spreading rapidly among his own kind like some sort of plague, yet harder to kill than Titans.

 

 _You’re the one to talk_ , he could imagine Mikasa’s cold voice betrayed by the attention she spared him for as long as they know each other.

 

Returning from his straying thoughts, he was back in the damp, moldy darkness he was in. All he knew was that he was chained around the wrists and blindfolded on his kneeling position. The dampness of the hard ground seeped through the thin material of his pants and made his knees itch, but he stayed unmoved. He knew better than that, who knows there might be someone strong enough to pull the gutter for him the second he did? All he could see was pitch blackness and echoing drops of water not too far. He was not even sure where he was, all he knew was that when he woke up from whatever slumber he was in, he was already chained so low onto a pole (metal, it seems) with his legs bent back. He propped himself up from the nearly unbearable numbness only to make it worse and gave up making himself comfortable many hours ago. He had been losing the track of time, how long had he been there? Hours? Days? Is it night or day?

 

His chafed, dry lips began to bother him more than it used to be and he began seeing stars in the darkness. It couldn’t be good. His tummy had stopped growling years ago that he could barely remember how it feels like to be hungry, now he goes straight to nausea whenever he runs out of juice without Armin or Mikasa around. How are they doing out there? Are they doing okay?

 

He rememberedfour 12 meter class and a sneaky, abnormal 3 meter class. There had been another attack in the Trost district. The breach on the wall they fixed only a week ago failed to keep the Titans out. The civilians were evacuated; the trainees were assigned to clean up the area after the Recon Corps finished their job demolishing the giants (how is the Police taking this humiliation in their own jurisdiction, he had no idea). However, there was an error that wiped most of his squad in a secluded, isolated corner of the town made of rubbles. Curiosity got the best of him and he led his friends into what was now their grave. He lost a leg, but the second he noticed that Armin was in danger, the animal in him roared and there was only heat and darkness.

 

A bigger part of him was glad that it is possible that he was _awakened_. At _long_ last. It wasn’t easy to deal with the taunts of his own peers regarding to this conventional sense of maturity, he was never one to be bullied, but now he _understood_ how Armin must’ve used to feel. He was what the society would call a late-bloomer, the boy who never matured enough no matter what he does. From now on those people could shut up, he _would_ be smug about it, but then…what is his ability again? Deducing from the chain around his wrists and hours of propping himself in a fetal position, whatever that happened, maturing or not, might not be good. He would not be able to ace the military school with his average talent in everything if it was not for his will to try and fail and learn harder, such cycle in learning helps him to control his emotions and composure. He would not deny that it scares him, but he knew that it did not show. He had so many questions, needs, but answers had not yet to spare him even a glance.

 

He heard a loud creak of rusty metal and flinched. He grew aware at the sound of what seemed to be heavy rubber sole against the solid ground, getting closer and closer to him. He felt an irresistible urge to raise his guard, he could not help the mistrust and the insecurity that slowly crept into him and flicked some sort of fire in his chest. Who is that? What are they going to do? How many are they? The more he tried to guess and the closer the person got, the hotter his chest became. The heat began to coil like a restless snake within him, it spread further and further to the tips of his fingers that he sparsely thought he’d set himself on fire, it was so hot it began to burn, but he was okay with that if the other person would fry in it.

 

Even though he was bound and deprived of the visual, it felt that he _could_ touch the person. He _could_ very much hurt them if they tried anything, he was sure about that. It felt so real in his head, it was as if his fingers hovered around the person’s neck and could break it anytime, he was so close— 

 

It was merely a second later when he felt a faint electricity brush in his mind that set the fire within him off gradually. He did not want it to perish, but there was a rush of coolness in his head, flowing through his nerves and veins easily, a feeling that reminded him of a fine spring breeze in a hot day. He found himself unwillingly surrendering to the comfort the oddity provided him, he let the snake in him to cool down and rest itself in peace. It was a whole new sensation, he had never felt anything like that before, and it was only logical for him that it was _not_ him. It was obviously something that came from the other person in the room, it was impossible not to suspect the imposer and hold a grudge; never in his life had he felt so powerless over what should be his _own_ autonomy.

 

“Don’t fight back,” a voice spoke laced with authority, “at ease, soldier.”

 

Having the last four years taught to obey, he eased down, but keeping up what he got left to keep himself protected. Call it arrogance; if it took the authorities to take him down after what seemed to be his awakening, he must be pretty strong. He could take this person down if he wanted to; he believed in himself _that_ much.

 

He heard more footsteps before he felt another sets of fingers fiddling with the cuffs around his wrists before he heard an utterly relieving “click” and a gentle tug on his blindfold, relieving him from the darkness. He took a second or two to get his eyes used to the lighting of the room—that appeared to be some sort of a dungeon, probably a torture room, deducing from the chains and cuffs laying around him. He took another second to examine his wrists only to find them red and raw with old and fresh cuts, probably from the friction with the cuffs he had to endure for hours. Funny how it was not as painful as it is now before.

 

“Drink this.” A bottle of soldier’s common ration of water was offered in front of his face.

 

He spent no time considering what it might be in there and quickly took it and chugged the content down without a pause. He had not realized how thirsty he was before he finished the drink (it wasn’t even enough to wet the itch down his throat); he put it down before he looked up to the figure in similar uniform with his. Hours (or probably days) of being blindfolded made it hard to get his eyes to focus properly, not to mention that the figure stood with his back to the only source of light in the place. He had to get used to the shadows covering the figure’s appearance to finally recognize him. His jaw fell open upon recognition and he quickly tried to get to his feet, nearly stumbled as his legs refused to obey the command his brain issued and staggered limply into a saluting position.The stars returned to his view due to his hastiness and he stumbled forward only to get caught by the taller man. It was beyond embarrassing to let _him_ see him at such state, it was a disgrace.

 

“No need to feel embarrassed,” the man’s tone was slightly gentler than the one he used earlier.

 

“N-no.”Eren murmured stubbornly—an act that could be considered as a form of insubordination by his superiors, but there was no way he would let this side of him show around the taller man. He tried to still himself and offered his heart as a salute as proper as he could manage on his two feet, “Commander Smith.”

 

It was not the best salute he had ever got in the last few decades of his service, but Erwin Smith recognizes determination when he sees one. He returned the salute and beckoned him to be at ease, “Eren Jaeger, am I correct?”

 

“Yes, sir.”Eren could not believe his ill fate. Not only he was weak and might as well look way too inadequate to be a soldier that he actually is at the moment, he had to be graced by the presence of _the_ Commander, _the_ tactician, _the_ Erwin Smith whose return from recon mission he had always been looking forward to for years ever since he was a wee kid.

 

The man looked even more gracious up-close. He is nearly as tall as he was when Eren saw him on his horse or on a podium. Unlike most soldiers he socialized with, he looked sharp in his impeccably _clean_ uniform and the Recon Corps cape he wears with pride. His eyes were darker than they seemed when he showed up before the mission in Trost. It was impossible to find out what he has in mind, whether he was thinking at all or not, if there was one word to describe that look he got on his face, it was… _bland_ , _flat_ , with a tinge of something completely unreadable. It was hard not to notice that the Commander came all the way down here, on his own, simply to deal with Eren with absolutely no one else around. What could this mean?

 

“Stop trying.”

 

Eren turned his gaze abruptly back to those deep, blue eyes that never left him. He was suddenly more self-conscious under that unnerving gaze, trying to maintain the eye contact no matter how hard the urge to look away was pushing him. There was a feeling that they might not be on an equal footing, but he would like to try. To show _the_ man what he was capable of, what he could accomplish simply by trying. He understood how his arrogance often got the best of him at times, Armin and Mikasa shoved the fact into his face too many times before, but there was a real great urge to show the leader of the Scouting Legion that he could be reliable. He could be useful.

 

“You could be, but not now.”

 

The boy quickly averted his eyes in confusion, his pale cheeks colored. How did he...? “Apologies, sir.”

 

“None needed.” The man turned around and walked towards the nearest wooden chair in a corner, covered in dust, and took a seat. He looked back at Eren and beckoned the boy to get to the unoccupied chair a feet away from his. The boy hesitantly did so, awkwardly dragging his left foot—something that felt natural until he realized it was functioning well, still looking ashamed and everything even under this dim, uneven light. Erwin was aware that this was not exactly the best place to have a conversation, but there was no more time.

 

“Tell me what happened.”

 

Eren told him, about everything, about how his squad found this site made of suspicious-looking rubbles—there were not enough building around to make such a scene, he explained—and how an abnormal suddenly appeared from the rubbles, attracting four others on the other side of the area, hidden by more rubbles while they were squatting and feasting on the remains of human flesh scattered on the ground. It was Thomas first, and then Mina, one by one he watched his teammates got eaten while he laid there, injured from the attack of the aberrant, but when it came to his best friend, he blacked out. Erwin listened intently, yet Eren could not tell whether the Commander believed him or not. He showed very minimum interest, yet he nodded once in a while when he felt Eren needed some sort of encouragement. When the boy finished, Erwin was silent for a second or two, as if digesting the information he just got.

 

“You claim not to remember anything after the Titans attacked cadet Arlelt.”

 

“I…I don’t _claim_ to be, sir. I just…don’t.” he stuttered a little.

 

“I understand that you weren’t awakened before.”

 

“I was not, sir.”

 

“The mission by the end of the year in the snowy mountain in Military School also works as the last stimulus for cadets’ awakening.” The Commander elaborated, “According to the report concerning that course, it’s not your first time dealing with emergency with no active Sentinels around.”

 

“Ah,” Eren’s face darkened a little. “You’re talking about the time when Bertholdt Hoover saved me from an avalanche.” His tone dropped. It was not a fond memory of his, he would never admit it to anyone, but he nearly cried when he thought Bertholdt—good, old Bert was going to die. He did all he could, he tried to dig him out, he tried to look for help— _everything_ within his power to save the boy. It might be the most agonizing three hours in his life as he watched Bert getting paler and colder minute by minute. “We were saved. Apparently, Reiner Braun was awakened during his mission and he found us.”

 

“Yes, it happened that they’re compatible.” Erwin nodded. “Tell me, Eren,” Erwin casted his eyes on his again, this time Eren looked back. It was as if the Commander _challenged_ him, as if he wanted to see his worth. “What do you want the most?”

 

His blood boiled upon the question. The Commander of the Scouting Legion asked him what he wanted, an interpersonal interview that was unheard of from a superior of his station, some sort of direct surveillance. Eren balled his fists until his knuckles turned white from the expectation and thrill, the adrenaline was pumping in his blood, elevating his mind higher than oxygen could. He could write three pages long report about what he wanted alone, but he believed he could sum it up pretty well. His eyes glinted dangerously as he parted his lips to speak,

 

“I want join the Scouting Legion and exterminate _all_ the Titans, sir.”

 

Erwin did not blink. He did not even move an inch.

 

“Very well.” The older man got up from his seat calmly, “We will be in touch, soldier.”

 

Awakened from his semi-trance, Eren scrambled to his feet and gave his superior another salute, “E-excuse me, sir,”

 

Erwin paused halfway to the door and glanced back at him, “What is it?”

 

“I…” the boy could barely control his bubbling excitement and bit his lower lip, “…based on your assessment, sir, will I be useful for humanity?”

 

The urge to bite his tongue and take back his naïve question, of all the questions he could’ve had asked, was strong enough that he blushed like a schoolgirl before the Commander. He really could not help it. It was his one and only goal, and now that he could ask, he would not miss the chance. However, the glance Erwin spared him made his hope falter. It was the first time he could read something from that perfectly polished face and deep eyes—something that was akin to… _pity_?

 

The boy stood still although it felt almost like buried shoulder-deep in snow, he knew very well how it feels like, and it doesn’t feel nice at all. He tried so hard not to fall onto the floor at the flashes of the memories that would never leave him, both in his sleep and his wake. They were more vivid than ever, his mother’s blood splattered all over the Titan’s mouth, his father’s guts hanging from another’s lips—

 

“Rest assured, soldier,” Erwin added, “you’ll certainly be a useful Guide for us all.”

 

*

 

 


End file.
